Without a single ornament about her neck, or hair, wearing the plainest of black gowns, out of which her shoulders shone gleaming white, she was easily the most noticeable and the most distinguished-looking woman in the room. She did not wince. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMS4xNTYuNTAgLSAxOC0wNS0yMDI0IDE4OjMxOjUwIC0gOTk5NDc5NzM4
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